Awakenings
by Sergeant Duck
Summary: Meh, story's been done to death. Blame the plot bunnies. I know I do. Anyways, Jazz x Prowl.
1. Chapter 1

*****Damn you to hell plot bunnies! Why can't you let me finish the stories I've already started?! Why?!*****

**TALK KEY:** Normal, ::cybertronian::, **emphasized**, _thoughts_, *comm. line*, //bond//

**-The Voice**

"You wanna piece o' me?!"

"No, I want two!"

Pain.

Awareness. The first thing his CPU registered was the return of pain. Excruciating and merciless; it coursed through his frame like wildfire. He could feel hands trying to hold him down as he arched his back uncontrollably. Panicked voices occasionally leaked through his own agony filled screams to reach his audios.

"Jazz."

How that calm voice managed to pierce through the pain, through the screams, would forever mystify him. That familiar sensuous tenor belonged to someone he thought he'd never hear or see again. A surge of energy hit his CPU and the image and sensation of Megatron ripping him in half resurfaced with another flash of pain. The voice was drowned out.

"You wanna piece o' me?!"

"No, I want two!"

His vocals crackled threatening to short out as he screamed again.

"Jazz."

That voice. It was difficult, but he forced his body to stop fighting the hands. _He's here. Oh Primus, he's here! _

"Good. Concentrate on my voice."

He felt another surge forming and braced himself. A gentle hand rested on the side of his helm and he knew it was the owner of the voice that haunted him. It took an enormous amount of effort to activate his optics but it was worth it when he saw one of Prowl's rare small smiles. His optics went out when another wave of pain washed over him.

"He is able to hear me Ratchet, I am sure of it. He looked at me."

"Oh good, then you can tell him not to fraggin' do that again. The last thing he needs right now is more sensory input. His CPU is stuck in some sort of info loop."

"Ratch an I will have this little problem fixed in no time Prowl."

Jazz laughed hysterically inside at that comment. Only Wheeljack would consider what was supposed to be permanent deactivation a little problem.

"Understood. Jazz, I am not sure if you heard what Ratchet said or not, but you need to limit your sensory input."

"You wanna piece o' me?!"

"No, I want two!"

Jazz turned his head and pressed his face into Prowl's hand as the pain surged through him. His vocals finally shorted out unable to keep up with the screams. The energy surge abated taking the pain with it and leaving him panting through his intakes. He began to shut down all sensors as instructed before the next wave could hit but maintained his audios. He would rather die again then cut himself off from that voice.

"Shhhhh, that's it Jazz. It won't be much longer."

_D'you know how beautiful your voice is? Keep talkin' love. I'll rejoin the world o' the functionin' for that voice._

"You wanna piece o' me?!"

"No, I want two!"

Prowl turned his optics away as Jazz tried to scream through shorted out vocals. The silent scream sent shivers throughout his frame. "Ratchet, I do not wish to rush you but how much longer until this is resolved? I…I cannot bear seeing him like this."

"Almost there. If this doesn't do it we'll have no choice but to put him back into stasis, regardless of the risks. Ok…ok…done! If you pray to Primus, now might be a good time."

"You wanna piece o' me?!"

"No, I…"

The image turned to blackness so quickly that Jazz was suddenly fearful that he had died…again. Several minutes passed with Jazz doing the mental version of twiddling his thumbs waiting for something, anything, to happen. He timidly activated a few of his systems as a test. No pain, no images, no energy surges. Growing more confident, he slowly began booting up the other systems.

"Jazz?"

Jazz stared silently up at Prowl drinking in the sight of his age long infatuation. Perhaps he really was dead this time and was in their version of heaven within the Matrix. Experimentally, he raised a shaking hand and placed it over the one Prowl had on his helm. He attempted to speak but was reminded rather painfully that his vocals had shorted out. Ratchet walked into his field of vision and shook his head at him.

"Luckily for you, the damage to your vocals is not as extensive as what was done to Bumblebee's. Don't move."

Jazz resisted the urge to squirm as the CMO wormed metallic fingers into his throat. A few minutes passed before the medic pulled back and nodded towards him expectantly. He took a deep breath of air in through his intakes and put his vocals to the test. "You've got some cold fingers Doc."

Ratchet threw his arms up in exasperation. "Are you fragging serious?! I perform nothing short of a minor miracle bringing you back from the brink of permanent deactivation and this is the thanks I get?! Next time you pull a stunt like that I am going to leave you in two pieces you little ingrate!!" Wheeljack stepped up beside the CMO and smacked him upside the helm.

"Give the mech a break Ratch" the engineer chuckled. "I don't even wanna think about what he's been through."

Jazz managed a weak laugh earning him a dangerous growl from the fuming medic. "You're right. Thank you. I owe ya my life; you too Jack." Ratchet tossed his head with a snort and folded his arms across his chest. "So…did we win?"

"Yes and no" Ratchet replied letting his arms fall to his sides. "Megatron fell at the hands of the Witwicky boy but at the cost of the Allspark. A shard remained; it was with that piece that we were able to revive your spark. The shard weakened after the procedure and it remains to be seen if it will recover. As for the other problems, they can wait."

Wheeljack flashed his voice indicators happily and placed a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Relax, recharge, an enjoy the attention that's gonna be lavished upon ya when the announcement of your recovery is made. It's good to have ya back Jazz." He gave Jazz's shoulder a light squeeze before grabbing their disgruntled medic by the arm and dragging him off.

Jazz attempted to raise his head but the pressure of Prowl's hand on his helm halted his movement. He smiled up at the tactician. "Hiya Prowler. It's a shame I wasn't around ta throw a proper welcome ta Earth party for ya. I'll have ta rectify that." His smile slipped a little when the tactician just stared at him. "Prowl…?"

"When my team landed on Earth, Optimus told me what had happened to you" Prowl interrupted calmly.

Many Autobots accused their second in command of being nothing more than a strict workaholic who was only capable of showing passion for two things; logic and the Autobot cause. Jazz prided himself on being one of the few who was able to see passed that. Right now, Prowl was upset; in fact, Jazz surmised that the tactician was just barely holding it together. "Look, Prowl…" Jazz snapped his jaw shut at the sudden brightening of Prowl's optics.

"I thought you were dead Jazz. You were dead. "Do you have any idea what…" Prowl shook his head as if arguing with himself.

Jazz felt his spark ache at the way Prowl shuddered, actually shuddered, when he mentioned his death. "Prowl, I'm sorry…" Jazz was cut off once again as Prowl suddenly reached down and pulled him into an embrace. Too stunned for words, Jazz hugged the distraught tactician back.

"Do not ever scare me like that again" Prowl whispered.

Jazz relished the feel of Prowl's arms wrapped around him; at the warm presence of the other's spark so close to his own. He had loved this mech from afar in his previous life. At that moment, he decided he would correct that mistake in this life.

Prowl pulled away from Jazz and fixed the other mech with a stern look. "I will inform the others that you have been successfully revived. They will wish to see you and I know you are probably just as eager to see them; but you are still under Ratchet's care. It will be up to him as to whether you will be allowed visitors or not. When Ratchet deems you well enough for light duty please report to my office and we will discuss which responsibilities require your attention."

Bewildered, Jazz watched as Prowl turned on his heel and abruptly departed the med bay. _What…just happened there?! _Jazz wracked his processor for an answer and failed to notice Ratchet as the CMO returned to check up on him. A light tap on his helm brought him out of his musings.

"You need to recharge Jazz."

"Aw come on Doc, from what I understand I've been out long enough to last me a lifetime of recharge.

Ratchet frowned while adjusting one of Jazz's monitors. "Not long enough to do that; but apparently long enough for you to forget what happens when stubborn mechs attempt to disagree with me in my med bay."

"Oh I ain't arguin' with you Ratch. I just got my spark back; I'm not all too eager to lose it again so soon."

Ratchet grinned and leaned one arm onto the repair berth. "Smart mech. I knew there was a reason I brought you back. We all missed you, you know; even the humans." His grin grew wicked as he continued. "Of course you know no one missed you more than Prowl."

Jazz suppressed a pleased sigh and pretended to look indifferent. "You all never give that mech enough credit. He cares 'bout the welfare of his troops; of all the Autobots."

"Oh of course. I never doubted it. I've just never seen him react the way he did when he was told about you."

Jazz's optics widened against his will. "What did he do?"

Ratchet's grin turned from wicked to straight up evil incarnate. "Nighty night Jazz." Jazz opened his mouth but Ratchet had already set the mech's manual recharge sequence.


	2. Chapter 2

*****Yup, no idea what I'm doin'. Bunnies have complete and total control. That is all.*****

**TALK KEY:** Normal, ::cybertronian::, **emphasized**, _thoughts_, *comm. line*, //bond//

**-In the Med Bay**

*Clink*

*Clonk*

*Clink*

*Clonk*

Ratchet's right optic ridge twitched as he attempted to ignore the sound echoing from the med bay proper and into his office.

*Clink*

*Clonk*

_I'm going to kill him._

*Clink*

_It will be slow._

*Clonk*

_And it will be painful._

*Clink*

Ratchet tensed awaiting the other sound. After a few moments of blessed silence he sighed in relief and returned to his datapad.

*Clonk*

_That does it!_ Slamming his datapad down on the desk, Ratchet stood and stormed out of his office. "Jazz! If you don't stop that infernal noise I will be forced to undo all the hard work I've done bringing you back to life!" Said mech turned to look at him from where he'd been sitting propped up on his repair berth. Ratchet narrowed his optics at the uncharacteristic look of concern on the Autobot's Head of Special Ops face plates. "What?"

"It don't sound right."

Ratchet took a deep breath through his intakes in an attempt to reign in his temper. "**What**, exactly, doesn't sound right Jazz?"

"Watch." Jazz flicked a claw against his abdominal plating just above the large weld scar that encircled him. *Clink* He moved his hand lower and flicked again this time below the weld line. *Clonk* "See? Pitch's different. What's up with that?"

Ratchet folded his arms across his chest to keep from strangling his patient. "The Allspark shard we used on you was not strong enough to fix everything."

"Yeah, and?"

"It sounds different because your lower half is still in need of repair. The parts that sound different have suffered structural damage and severe energon loss. As soon as Wheeljack is finished fabricating the new parts I will replace…"

"Whoa! Hold up there Doc. Exactly what hardware below the belt you plannin' on replacin'?"

"**Damaged** hardware."

Jazz squirmed around a bit on the repair berth. "This ain't cool Ratch. How you gonna tell a mech somethin' like that an then leave em hangin'…"

"Oh calm down. You're acting like a sparkling."

"No way I'm calmin' down! Yer talkin' 'bout a bot's mech hood here! You just don't do that!"

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nasal plates in a borrowed human gesture. "No one is going to be placing your 'mech hood', such as it is, at risk Jazz."

"Promise?"

"Yes, fine, I promise." Jazz stared at him for a moment then relaxed back into his repair berth. Ratchet shook his head and stepped up to the machines monitoring Jazz's systems. "Might as well run a few checks while you've got me out here."

"Do what you gotta do Doc."

Ratchet frowned at the change of tone in the smaller mech's vocals. It was unnerving seeing the usually upbeat saboteur so easily unsettled. It wasn't just the concept of needing more repairs that had done it; Jazz just hadn't been **Jazz** since he'd onlined a week ago. His moods changed between melancholy to cheerful on a whim. _Guess I can't blame him. No one's ever been brought back from this kind of damage before. Who knows what he's been through, what he's seen, what he felt… what he's __**still**__ feeling._

_____________________________________________________________________________

Prowl stepped into the med bay and froze as his optics swept across Ratchet standing beside Jazz's supine form. His door wings drooped slightly then forced himself further into the large room. "Ratchet. Jazz." He nodded in greeting to each mech as he stopped beside Jazz's repair berth.

Ratchet returned the nod while maintaining his attention on a suddenly very tense Jazz. "Prowl. What can I do for you?"

Prowl jerked his optics away from Jazz and focused on the larger yellow mech. "When you are not busy I was wondering if you could perform a check on my… my panels."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge at the obvious skip in the SIC's request. He'd lost count of the number of times Prowl had visited the med bay in the last week; always with some small mundane complaint. Of course these issues were always blamed on his rough planet fall… over a month ago. "What is wrong with them?"

"Hyper sensitivity. There seems to be excessive movement in the joints on a subconscious level."

_Translation? Your door wings are twitchy._ "I see. I will be finished with Jazz's checks in a few minutes if you want to wait on a repair berth."

Prowl nodded in affirmation and walked over to a nearby berth. He perched on the edge and watched the CMO hover over an uncharacteristically quiet Jazz. His door wings fluttered nervously as Ratchet moved onto performing a basic check of Jazz's motor skills. He frowned noting the saboteur's normally graceful and fluid movements appeared to be slow and somewhat jerky; especially in the lower legs and peds. He sat up straight and averted his gaze when the medic suddenly turned and made his way over to Prowl's berth.

"Alright, extend the panels so I can get a better look at the joints."

Prowl flared his door wings as requested and winced as the other mech's fingers began to poke and prod the sensitive joints.

"It's ok to visit him you know."

Prowl's hands gripped the edge of the repair berth tightly at Ratchet's whispered comment. "Pardon?"

"I said it's ok to visit him. I know he'd like it. You don't need to make excuses to stop by here."

Prowl glanced over his shoulder meeting Ratchet's optics. "I am not sure I understand what you are…"

"Oh grow up and upgrade Prowl!" Ratchet whispered fiercely. "He needs you right now!" Ratchet dimmed his optics and softened his tone. "And from I can tell, you need him too." Prowl's expression sank, unfortunately so did his door wings. Ratchet yelped as the motion pinched his fingers inside the joints connecting Prowl's panels to his back. He yanked his hand free and shoved the tactician off the repair berth. "Your panels are fine! If they appear a little twitchier then normal it's probably due to stress! Can't imagine why! Now unless you have a **real** injury that requires my attention…" Ratchet tossed a significant glance towards Jazz and lowered his vocals, "…or are here to visit a friend, get out of my med bay."

Prowl watched as Ratchet walked back to his office grumbling while examining his hand and winced as the office door slammed shut behind the medic. He turned to look at Jazz and found the silver mech silently staring back at him. Squaring his shoulders as if about to take on the entire Decepticon Army, Prowl walked over to Jazz's berth. He stopped next to the berth and schooled his features into a neutral expression. "How are you feeling?"

Jazz shrugged and met Prowl's neutral expression with one of his own. "Ready for round two with Megatron… if the mech was still functioning that is. How's the wings?"

Prowl winced internally at Jazz's question about the fictional injury. "According to Ratchet my panels' are responding to heightened levels of stress."

"Uh huh, what 'bout the left ped?"

Prowl blinked in confusion before he realized that Jazz was referring to the last excuse. Unaware that Jazz had known about his reason for visiting the med bay the day before he was unprepared to respond and quickly tried coming up with an acceptable response.

"And yer audios; you came in to get those checked too right? And the hip strut? And… shall I continue?"

Prowl leaned back as Jazz pushed himself up further with each question. "Jazz I…"

"What Prowl? What?"

"Jazz, your welds." Prowl's hand shot out landing on the other mech's chest halting the forward movement. He stared at his hand in shock feeling Jazz's spark pulse strongly beneath his palm. Clawed fingers slowly encircled his wrist and held his hand in place. Prowl raised his optics and felt his own spark pulse against it's casing when Jazz slid his visor up revealing his own optics.

"It ain't the welds that are hurtin' Prowl."

Prowl's processor slowed to a halt and he found himself unable to look away from Jazz's optics. After several minutes of silence he gently increased the pressure on the other mech's chest gently pushing him back onto his berth. He leaned in closely then stopped with a pained grimace with their faces mere inches apart. "As I've stated before, I cannot bear seeing you like this; but I am not sure if I know how or am capable of stopping this kind of pain."

Jazz felt like his world was being torn in half for a second time as Prowl suddenly stood back up pulling his hand free of his chest in the process. He started to sit up and raised a hand to reach for the other mech but froze as Prowl shook his head and took a step back.

"I will find a way to make the pain stop Jazz. This is my promise to you."

Without another word, Prowl spun around and quickly departed the med bay leaving Jazz to fall back onto his berth with a heavy sigh. "Primus, if you've brought me back just to torture me… you an me, we're gonna have issues."


	3. Chapter 3

*****Ok, experiencing some insane writers block on ALL my stories which sucks big fat floppy donkey dick. But, I did manage to come up with this little "thing" so as to not leave too many of you hangin. I figure trying to keep Jazz in the med bay when he doesn't want to be in the med bay is kind of like an adventure all it's own. Hence, this little side story which will probobly end up having a few more added to it until I can get on with the original story. Again, I am sorry about the delay and I am working on correcting the issue as soon as possible!*****

**TALK KEY:** Normal, ::cybertronian::, **emphasized**, _thoughts_, *comm. line*, //bond//

**-Escape, Scene One, Take One**

Ratchet quickly made his way down the hallway towards the med bay ignoring any and all distractions. He did not want to leave the bay to begin with but it was either attend the weekly meeting and report on Jazz's most recent operation, or deal with every single mech stopping by to ask the same questions over and over **and over** again. He stepped through the double doors leading into the med bay proper and expelled a large puff of air through his vents at seeing an empty repair berth where Jazz should have been. He folded his arms across his chest and scanned the room for his wayward patient. "Alright slagger, you have thirty seconds to get your aft back on that berth before I resort to force." Silence met Ratchet's words. "Ok, fine, don't listen to the medic, it's not like he can stop the head of special ops from leaving the med bay right? Oh no, couldn't possible stand a chance against the famous Jazz in **my own med bay!**" Ratchet smirked and remote activated the tiny metal discs he'd had Wheeljack install in the med bay walls and ceiling for just such an occasion.

Jazz quietly watched Ratchet from where he clung to the uppermost left ceiling corner with his magnetic claws. He had not been expecting the lock on the med bay doors to be that complicated so had been looking for an alternative escape method when the good doc returned. He frowned as his sensors detected a tiny signal emitted from the larger mech below him. His head whipped around as he felt a sudden magnetic pulse beneath his own magnetized hands. "Oh frag…"

Ratchet watched with a smug grin as Jazz fell screaming from the ceiling and was dragged across the floor until he came to a sudden stop in the center of the med bay. He calmly walked over to the panting saboteur and leaned over him. "Well look at what we have here? A magnetic spider monkey who seems to have met with some reversed polarity magnetic disks." He took a step back while remotely turning off the magnetic disks and offered Jazz a hand. "Lesson learned?"

Jazz sighed as the magnetic field released him and took Ratchet's offered hand. "Lesson learned, don't use magnets to escape the med bay." The medic pulled him to his feet and raised an optic ridge at him. "Oh, the other lesson, right, don't fuck with the medic in his own playground."

Ratchet shook his head at the use of the human curse. "That will do, I suppose. Now get on the berth so I can check your repairs."


	4. Chapter 4

**TALK KEY:** Normal, ::cybertronian::, **emphasized**, _thoughts_, *comm. line*, //bond//

**-Escape, Scene One, Take Two**

Ratchet entered the med bay and groaned at the sight of Jazz's empty repair berth… again. _Ok, this is getting old._ "Wheeljack!" Said mech popped up from behind a repair berth waving like an idiot. "What the frag Jack?! I gave you one simple task! Keep an optic on Jazz!"

Wheeljack shrugged. "Hiya to ya too Ratch."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge as Wheeljack disappeared back down behind the repair berth he'd emerged from. "I must have been malfunctioning to think that I could actually trust you to watch him! I can't believe you let him escape! Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be to track down that pint sized…" Ratchet paused as he rounded the repair berth blocking Wheeljack from his view to find the engineer crawling along the floor panels. "What…are you doing?"

"Tracking Jazz."

"On the floor."

"Actually, he's **under** the floor."

"Explain."

"Well he was in the walls earlier. Now he is under the floor. I managed to slip a tracer in him."

Ratchet raised both optic ridges in surprise. "A tracer? We've tried that before Jack. He always finds them."

"Yeah, this is a new one" Wheeljack replied distractedly as he crawled along the floor following Jazz's movements.

"Why not just use the magnetic discs to get him back out?"

"Yeah, 'bout that. He sort of got behind them."

Ratchet's frown deepened as he placed his hands on his hips. "You let him loose on purpose to test your stupid tracer didn't you?"

Wheeljack hunched his shoulders and glanced back at Ratchet with a sheepish look on what was visible of his face plates. "Kinda. But it's working, so we know where he is, and he really hasn't escaped… technically."

Ratchet slowly wiped a hand across his face then stared up at the ceiling silently begging Primus for patience. "Ok, fine, he is still technically in/around the med bay. My question now is, how the frag do we get him out from under the floor?"

"I'm still working on that part. I really hadn't planned on him makin' it this far."

"Hadn't planned on him making it this far" Ratchet deadpanned. "This is Jazz we are talking about here you glitch. You know damned well there is no such thing as a plan when it comes to that slippery…"

"Wait, hold that happy thought, I have an idea." Wheeljack stood up and dusted off his hands failing to notice Ratchet's glare at being interrupted yet again. "Jazz still pining over Prowl?" he whispered. Wheeljack chuckled at Ratchet's incredulous expression and nodded. "Right, stupid question. Do me a favor an wait right…" he grabbed the medic by his shoulders and pulled him over to the edge of one of the large floor tiles "…here."

"Wheeljack what…"

"Just trust me on this." Wheeljack walked over to the far wall of the med bay where a wall panel had been pried back earlier by their wayward charge. He leaned in close to the opening and raised his voice. "Heya Prowl! Jazz? Well he **was** here…"

Ratchet smirked and shook his head. _There is no way this is going to work._ Before he could snap at Wheeljack and inform him of just how ridiculous this idea was, a floor panel in front of his pedes gave a slight shift. _Un-fragging-believable._ Ratchet slowly lowered his frame and positioned his hands just above the lip of the floor panel which was beginning to lift at an angle. The tips of two very familiar looking silver horns appeared just over the edge of the floor panel. With a speed that few doubted the good doc was capable of, Ratchet grabbed hold of both horns like a pilot gripping the steering mechanism of a small fighter. And just like a pilot caught in a dive, Ratchet yanked back… hard.

Wheeljack winced behind his mask almost feeling sorry for the saboteur who was now screaming like a wet Earth feline. He really hadn't planned on Ratchet grabbing their patient, and dragging their patient… and now holding their patient up in the air by his sensitive helm protrusions. _Ouch. That's gotta hurt._

"Thought yourself pretty clever didn't you?! My med bay Jazz! My rules! My orders! Which coincidentally, did not include your discharge!" Ratchet gave Jazz a slight shake to emphasize the last sentence.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Owie holy Primus **ow** Ratch! Leggo! Jack! Get it off!"

Ratchet growled and switched his hands on Jazz's horns to spin said mech around to face him. "No, **'it'** will not be letting go of anything until you give me your word this time! You will not leave this med bay, correction; you will not leave the primary **insides** of the med bay proper without my say so!"

Jazz struggled in Ratchet's grip, his pedes kicking wildly and a grimace showing clenched dentals. "Oh come on Ratch! I'm fixed up, I'm good to go, I'm… damnit mech that **hurts!**"

Wheeljack stepped up next to the struggling Pontiac. "Jazz, that is a very big mech you are arguing with right now. A very big mech with a funny thing in his arm called a rotary saw. Personally, an this is just me, I'd do as he says."

Ratchet glared at the engineer before returning his attention to the struggling, though weakening, frame in his grip. He took a deep breath in through his intakes and gently set the smaller mech on a nearby repair berth. "Jazz… " He paused and softened his tone. "Jazz, I'm not trying to be the bad guy here. I've never brought a mech back, never brought a friend back from where you've been before. We were, and still are, scared. Please."

Jazz paused rubbing his claws over his sensitive horn and frowned at the medic. "Never meant to say y'were the bad guy Ratch. Am just not used to feelin' like an invalid, ya know? I'm head of special ops, second in command of Optimus' cavalry, an over all third in command of the Autobots." He dropped a hand to his waist and drew his claws across the weld scar. "**Was** all those things anyways. You ain't the only one scared." He turned his face away and trudged back to his repair berth. "I won't try nothin' again; I'll stay put."

Wheeljack frowned behind his mask and folded his arms across his chest. "He'll keep to that Ratch. Jazz keeps his word. Out of curiosity though, when you going to clear him?"

Ratchet shook his head and shrugged. "Physically, he is clear and ready to return to duty; **light** duty. Mentally… can you honestly say that youngling over there currently possesses the processing capabilities to perform the job he once held? The old Jazz would never have fell for that little trick of yours, nor would he have whined like a fraggin' sparkling at being gripped by the audio horns, and let us not forget that depression he's found himself in regarding our resident second in command AKA Mr. Pole-up-his aft.

"So, when does Prowl AKA Mr. Pole-up-his-aft, we need a shorter nickname for him then that by the way, return to Diego Garcia from his stint stateside? Maybe fixing this 'thing' between them will help with the other issues."

Ratchet grinned and turned began walking towards his office. "I believe that that Oreo on legs is working on that problem as we speak."

Wheeljack flashed his voice indicators in confusion. "What's an Oreo?"


End file.
